Obsession
by Arcee Cola
Summary: Knock-Out has dreamed of having Arcee since first meeting her on Cybertron. His obsession may lead to the Autobots' doom. Additional chapters forthcoming. K/O x Arcee. Adult chapters planned.
1. Prologue

His obsession was founded hundreds of years ago, in the golden era that preceded the Great Exodus. He remembered it fondly, that moment; the first time he had seen her, the first time he had touched her.

She had arrived in his office as one of many youthful 'bots recovering from the scrapes and dents of a minor joy-riding accident. He was often in demand for such work, in those days, as his extensive medical knowledge came coupled with a refined sense of aesthetics. No one else in the region had earned his reputation: "a master of chassis repair," he was called, "a true artist," and yet he had not known art at all until his optics scanned the young fembot standing tense and uneasy in his med-lab.

No detail was forgotten. He could still recall the time and date. He had entered the med-lab with data charts in hand, reviewing what basic information his aide had collected about the unknown patient. "I am Knock Out," he began, absent of tone. "Just that. I don't care for that 'doctor' nonsense, and – "

He glanced away from the chart to crack a half-hearted smile along with his half-hearted joke, and it felt as if _lightning_ had struck his spark. The jolt was painful yet energizing. His circuitry felt overheated, and his optics refused all attempts to look away from the femme. "...half my aides just say 'hey, you!'" His voice sounded far-off and strange to him, and perhaps to her as well, for she reacted to his weak sense of humor by folding her arms across her chestplate, her optics looking away. He did not help matters any by laughing too loud.

_Sleek_. From the tips of her pointed toes to the fragile-seeming winglets portruding from her back, she was grace given form. Every lustrous curve of her chassis was crafted to entice. When she transferred her weight from her right leg to her left – such a small motion, so casual – his attention was riveted to the pleasing round sensuality of her shifting hips and flexing thighs. Strong cabling flowed in mirrored paths along each side of her long neck, coming together in a loose embrace that plunged beneath her metallic bosom, the ample feminine shape of which protected her spark-chamber. Her blue optics, tilted slightly upward at the outer corners, bore great intelligence and greater passion. Never before had he seen such female magnificence.

She was flawed, yes. She was no longer a sparkling, and so the childish pink-and-white of her paint job, though striking, did not suit her. He knew right away that she was overdue for independence, and that her parent-units had been sheltering her to an unwarranted degree. Her willowy body was designed for speed, elegance, and beauty, but she had been so thoroughly raised on strict mannerisms that she appeared stiff and stunted.

Only the absolute confidence which put steel in her purring voice implied she knew anything of her potential. "_Arcee_," she introduced herself, the name burning into his circuits at once, a scar which was fated to never quite heal. "Will this be...quick?"

"No, my dear," he'd responded, his voice soft but insistent. "I must examine you thoroughly..."

Then, she was his; at his command, she settled into his medical berth for the next hour while he conducted every test and diagnostic he could conceive. Scanners probed the fembot in long, slow sweeps, making bare any secret her body possessed. He memorized the sweet crescendo of quickening fans and vents, the sound filling his med-lab each time she grew anxious. He stroked healing polymer into her scratches himself, taking his time so as to savor the feel and shape of her frame beneath his fingers.

She did not resist him; why would she? He was the medic, and she his patient. Perhaps he should have felt ashamed at his behavior. He was taking advantage of his patient's trust.

Their conversation was at first as firmly polite as one could expect, yet as time wore on and her patience grew thin, he began to see glimpses of the fiery persona that lurked beneath her lady-like exterior.

"You should be more cautious," he urged her. "Such a lovely paint job shouldn't be put at needless risk."

"You don't need to _lecture_ me, _doc_," she snapped back. Her tone startled him at first, and then he was smirking.

"Did I touch a nerve?" He had to laugh. She looked furious with him, though she said nothing else, retreating into a smoldering, sulky silence that kept a smile on his face for the duration of the exam.

He had not seen that sweet, angry expression again until the two crossed paths on the battlefield.

He recognized her at once despite the change of appearance. Her chassis was sharper somehow, cleaner, voluptuous curves traded up for a predatorial frame that was more suited to her role as scout leader. Gone was her original paint job, too; in place of innocent pink was a deep midnight blue highlighted by lines of gleaming gold and dusty rose, the thick and impressive armor plated in layers over gunmetal gray. Even her vehicular mode had been upgraded to a swift, sleek motorcycle form instead of the sportscar she had adopted as a sparkling.

She was racing along the outskirts of Decepticon territory when he pounced, driving hard into her side. The two-wheeler skipped across hard pavement several times before she unfolded and turned her tumble into a nimble backflip. The surprise he felt at recognizing the _Autobot _stayed his hand long enough for her to spring into action and burn rubber back to the rest of her patrol group, a delay that Breakdown immediately noticed and called out.

"Th' hell's wrong with _you?_" Breakdown's accusatory voice had no room for real concern, even though the two had been partnered since the war's inception. "You let her get away. She was an easy target..."

"I knew her," Knock Out grumbled. "Won't happen next time."

And so it did not.

He tracked her movements using every trick and technology at his disposal. Each time he intercepted her, he fought to kill her allies and claim her as his own, claiming "the Decepticon cause" as his excuse. He argued that as a scout and spy, Arcee would have access to valuable Autobot intelligence. She would have to plot her own movements in accordance with her faction's plans, and he meant to pry every detail from her screaming lips. Megatron liked the sound of that.

It was therefore his fault that she was taken by Airachnid. His arguments had been too effective. Megatron agreed with his logic, and dispatched his most lethal interrogator to claim the fembot.

Knock Out was forced to watch from the shadows while his prey was tormented and picked apart by another bot's hands. He longed to be part of the proceedings and to refresh his knowledge of her beautiful chassis. He craved to draw out her pleas and screams himself. He wanted to make her _surrender _to the Decepticon way, so that he could at last claim her as his own...completely.

He leaked Arcee's whereabouts to the Autobots and watched, triumphant, as Airachnid lost her favorite plaything.

At least Airachnid's work was not entirely in vain. She was reluctant to share her interrogation logs, but gave in when he drew Megatron into the argument – "Just give Knock Out what he wants and get out of my sight!" the Lord had commanded, seething with rage at having to mediate what he called "_pure foolishness_." From those logs, Knock Out culled every nuance and detail of Arcee's character and form, using the information to seed his next demented project.

He was an artist, they said, so he would give them _art_. Construction began immediately after he determined the proper alloy which comprised her chassis. Materials were easy enough to come by; the battlefield was so littered with Autobot and Decepticon pieces that he wanted for nothing. Some scraps were already suited to the task and did not require changes or improvements. Other components had to be worked over for years in order to be absolutely correct; his vanity did not permit _anything_ short of perfection.

A long stretch of empty years interrupted his work. He traveled the galaxy with Breakdown, drifting from energon signal to energon signal like worker bees in a field of endless flowers. It was coincidence that drew them to Earth. It was coincidence that the Autobots and Decepticons had carried their war to that planet. It was coincidence that she was there, waiting for him, alive and still fighting despite the millions like her who hadn't made it. Though he was duty-bound to obey Starscream's summons, he was breathless with anticipation at seeing Arcee again, and their first clash outside the human museum reignited his obsession. Their war resumed, and so did the construction, the half-formed chassis having survived Knock-Out's journey through the stars.

Time had hardened the two-wheeler into a goddess of battle. Watching her fight was to witness living _art_; he had never before seen anything half so glorious! He exulted in her triumph, and despaired to see her fail, even as he added her advancements and flaws to his older schematics. Scraps from shattered Decepticons fed the growing form, and carefully-stolen shreds of energon gave it life. When the optics flickered for the first time, he thought his spark would burst with pride.

A near-complete replica, perfect to every exact detail...and with it, he would seal the final fate of the Autobots and _finally_ take Arcee for his own.


	2. Chapter 1: The Unknown Future

_Author's Note: I apologize for taking so long with the first chapter. I had an extremely difficult time setting the story in motion, which I guess is to be expected when you're new to story-writing. Since the preview version, I've corrected some lore mistakes and obsessed again over the details, which I hope has refined things...anyway, your support and understanding is truly appreciated, and I look forward to continuing the story. Let's hope chapter two can be finished soon!_

_I am looking for beta readers. Feel free to message me on Yahoo or drop a private message here._

**Chapter One: The Unknown Future**

The sunset painted Nevada's desert sands in fiery shades of orange and crimson. Above the fat red sun, cirrus clouds appeared as bold violet strokes across the gold-and-azure sky, while the opposing horizon grew dark enough for the first stars to emerge as faint glittering specks. In these final daylight hours, the desert came to life; lizards and rodents scampered warily from their dens in search of food, and owls had started hooting to one another in soft, sleepy voices, playing harmony to the arrhythmic orchestra of chirping insects.

Arcee sat alone with Jack in quiet admiration of the scene. She'd made it a daily habit since first arriving on Earth, and included him whenever she could; he seemed to share her sense of wonder. When she and the Autobots fled to the blue planet, none of them had expected to discover such a bounty of life, and witnessing it at work served to remind her of what she fought for.

She turned her head to the side and smiled down at Jack. He sat at her right with his long legs sprawled out upon the sand. A black horned beetle was crawling over his shoe; he watched it, though his focus shifted quickly enough when he realized she was observing him. "What's up?" he asked, cheerful.

"I was just thinking about how strange and amazing your world is," she answered, her optics blinking as she looked back to the desert. "An hour ago and you'd think this place was a wasteland. Now..." She made a loose, sweeping gesture, the shadow of her passing arm startling Jack's beetle into flight. "It's incredible."

"Was Cybertron ever like this?"

"No. Our home didn't grow the way Earth did. Everything there was – constructed. Machines within machines on top of bigger machines supporting smaller machines. We didn't have trees, birds, or mammals. We didn't have any oceans or life-spawning tide pools." Her thoughtful frown became a wistful smile the longer she reflected on her long-gone homeworld. "Our cities were amazing. If you could have seen them! Everything was cold metal, but the light was _endless_. Cybertron never slept. There was always sound and always _life, _like it is here. We had deserts, sure, just – different. Big empty plains of undeveloped territory, waiting for our population to grow until we were ready to take over the blank spaces. Those deserts never had the chance to meet their fate; they all became battlefields instead of the foundations for new cities."

He did his best to keep their conversation light. She liked that about him – he could be optimistic in the worst of times, yet he rarely failed to stay pragmatic and focused when the situation called for it. _Like Optimu__s; always full of hope._ "Our deserts have seen war, too, but life goes on. Life can still return to Cybertron." He paused. "Arcee, can I ask you something...personal?"

His loaded question made her nervous. She stared at the teenaged boy again, scrutinizing his blushing face. Was he embarrassed? As expressive as human features could be, she sometimes had a very hard time reading her partner's emotions, and he could be devious when he tried. "Personal? I...I guess so." He nodded and looked away from her, scratching his left ear while his shy words shot back in an anxious rush.

"How will you do it? Repopulate Cybertron, I mean. You're the only female Autobot I know, and – "

"Energon. Lots of energon." She cut him off, her interruption so quick and hard that he shut up right away, shocked. Pity (and a touch of regret) carried her past her knee-jerk reaction and enabled her to try again in a gentler tone. "'Bots aren't the same as humans. We have the All-Spark to create new life...and without it, the best we can do is sort of...copy ourselves. We – interface with one another, when we decide we're ready to reproduce, which I suppose isn't very unlike what humans do." Here, Jack blushed. She smiled a little and continued. "We share sparks. It isn't done lightly, and you _have_ to have absolute trust in your partner. We rarely 'hook up' just for the fun of it." _Not much, anyway. _"The biology behind it is different, too."

He thought about what she said before pressing on, curiosity overcoming his reluctance. "'Sharing of sparks?' What does that mean?"

"It's just like it sounds. When we interface, if we want to create a sparkling, we share...something of ourselves – data – memories, emotions, thoughts. A little bit of who we are and our wisdom. Over time, the combined data develops inside a spark chamber and becomes a 'sparkling.' We transfer the new spark to an empty chassis, once it's strong enough to survive the move. Energon and the spark together bring life to the chassis, and the sparkling...takes over. Lives. It's not that different from what human parents do, if less messy and _primitive_. You mostly know what you'll get from a 'bot based on who his parent-units were. Life experience will change anyone, of course. I wasn't supposed to be a soldier."

"You weren't?" He sounded skeptical; she snorted. "I can't imagine you as anything else. Your parents must have had tough sparks."

"My 'father' did. He was an officer, part of the warrior caste. Mother probably had it in her, but she was too nurturing to be the same _kind_ of warrior. She wanted me to become a teacher or medic, like she did." Memories overwhelmed Arcee's central processors and her voice trailed off. She hadn't thought about her parent-units in such a long time...

A mischievous voice broke into her introspection: Jack again, sly as the fox he resembled. "So what lucky Autobot do you wanna hook up with?"

Energon rushed hotly through her faceplate. He laughed at hearing her cooling fans kick on. "I haven't and I'm _not_ going to think about that, okay?"

"Come on, why not? You're the last surviving female Autobot that we know of. Don't you ever think about this kind of thing?" He was coaxing rather than mocking, trying to see past her defenses to find the true feelings beneath. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I've talked plenty about my feelings for _Sierra..._"

"That's not the same thing. She's just – "

"Okay, you're right. I'm still in high school and she's just a crush and I'm _not_ thinking of some future where I'm responsible for restoring the human population."

"It's a distraction. We've got more important things to consider." Her right hand formed a tight fist of frustration and she stood, shaking out her entire winged frame as though to shed the uncomfortable feelings the conversation had conjured. "I don't want to talk about it." Jack sighed at her, impatient, and tried another tack.

"Take it easy. Bulkhead likes you, you know. So does 'Bee." Arcee's shoulders jumped but she remained too stubborn to otherwise acknowledge his words. She could well imagine the growing smirk on his face as he continued, teasing: "I bet even Ratchet would be up to the task, if you picked him. _Those_ sparklings would be some sort of new genius breed of Autobot." She heard his laughter, soft over the grinding of her gears. "And Optimus _really_ has the best aft, if _that's_ your biggest concern."

Arcee gunned her engine the whole way back to base, doing her best to drown out Jack's laughter.

* * *

><p>"You know," he groaned, "we really could stand to break away from the whole '<em>ominous<em>' motif and install some slagging lights in these hallways. The med-bay at _least_ requires an upgrade if Megatron expects me to continue playing _doctor_." Knock Out's griping echoed ahead and behind him, the narrow metal hallway augmenting his smooth voice so effectively that any attempt at discretion was a waste of time. Fortunately for him, neither Megatron nor Soundwave – _that eavesdropping pest!_ – were in any position to overhear his treasonous tone; the two were ensconced in the forward bridge, obsessing over the latest Earth intel. _Energon this, Autobots that, and not one step closer to securing victory._

"Stop complaining," Breakdown shot back, hefting the slender bundle in his arms a little higher. "You only start nitpicking when you're nervous. Try to let it go for once, would ya?"

Knock Out's response was a snarl of tension and irritation. "I'm not _nervous_. I know how to handle the situation and I know how he'll react." _Anxious is a better way to put it. I'm so _close; _the bureaucracy i__s just slowing everything down. _"I'd just rather do this all on my own. I don't like wasting time having to pay homage to _His Majesty_." Breakdown laughed at that. He didn't care for politics, either.

"If you expect your plan to pan out, you're going to need his cooperation. That's just how it is around here. If you bring home a toy without Daddy's permission, you're likely going to lose it." The advice was sound, the sort of restraining wisdom that made Breakdown a good partner._ Sometimes._

"'Toy?' Is _that_ what you've been dragging along with you?" Airachnid's svelte voice drifted down from the ceiling in a curious sing-song. The Decepticon soon following, descending down a hyperstrong thread of her strange silk. She had her arms folded across her chest, one long finger lifted upward to rest thoughtfully upon her chin. Her fanged smile was wicked. "Let me see it, Breakdown, won't you?"

Knock Out scowled at the inverted spiderbot, his optics lit by an angry pulsing hue. "This isn't any of your business, Airachnid. Crawl back into your hole."

"Oh, how _interesting_. Not any of my business, hmm?" She swung closer, baring her teeth in that vicious, animalistic way she had. "I'm inclined to _make_ it my business. Talk, or I go right to Megatron. I know you've been working on _something_ when you should have been recharging...and I _know_ you don't have any standing orders that would pertain to a _project_ of that magnitude."

Knock Out captured her narrow face in one palm and _shoved_, forcing the spiderbot from his path. She squawked her outrage, cursing him as he moved on, and prepared to strike as he passed – only to be denied the pleasure, having instead to scuttle away in a rather undignified manner so as to avoid a second collision with Breakdown's much larger frame. Knock Out's sense of triumph was somewhat diminished by Breakdown's muttered apology. _I forgot; he likes this one._ Airachnid _hissed_ at their backs and leapt upward, retreating to the dark ceiling of tangled cabling and webs, _defeated_...

Or so he thought.

From the corner of his eye he caught the strange shadow cast by her bloated posterior and many spindly legs. She was crawling across the ceiling, dashing across its uneven surface with enviable ease, the huge knotted cables and intermittent duct systems never impeding her quick progress. The uncertain lighting made her movements difficult to track, so he was caught rather off-guard when she finally _struck_. Pouncing from an unseen place, Airachnid swung gracefully between the two masculine 'Cons, taking with her the draped canvas which shielded Knock Out's creation from view.

"Is that...?" Canvas fell from her numb claws and she descended once again on her silvery thread, glowing optics wide with surprise; disbelief. "How did you – I didn't hear anything about – " For a moment, she was too shocked and confused to gather her thoughts; then, her attention settled on Knock Out. His self-satisfied expression seemed to make her angry, for her delicate face twisted at once into an ugly mask of rage. "There isn't any possible way _you_ captured Arcee on your own. She's too good for that, and besides, she's _mine_."

Breakdown quickly intervened, separating Knock Out from Airachnid with an enormous outstretched arm. "Easy, Knock Out," he cautioned, watching him more than he did _her_. Arcee's lifeless chassis dangled from his other bicep, threatening to fall.

"Be careful!" The doctor lay a steadying hand on the sharp-edged blade which arced outward from Arcee's forearm. It was enough to keep her from slipping any further, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Just _what_ is going on here?" Airachnid crept closer to have a better view. "Is she _dead?_"

"Hardly. This isn't the Arcee you know and love. This is..." Knock Out hesitated. His gears ground together while he wondered how much to reveal. Airachnid cocked a hand to her hip, and one of her many legs began to tap against the flooring in an annoying display of impatience. He started to growl at her. "It's _none_ – "

"_Scrap_," Breakdown whispered. Behind Knock Out, two malignant purple optics had pierced the shadows with their baleful glow. Heavy strides brought the beast yet closer, each frantic flicker of the corridor's lighting revealing more of his scarred and jagged-edged chassis. Powerful cabling fed unmatched strength to his coiled fists. His chestplate heaved with every rumbling intake of air, and from it radiated the shimmering waves of heat generated by the tainted spark contained inside. The menace soon loomed over all the 'Cons; a monster made of steel and hatred.

"Lord Megatron," they said at once, respectful, fearful. Behind their Lord hovered another, narrower figure: cold and silent, still and watchful.

"Speak..." commanded their Lord. Knock Out obeyed.

* * *

><p>Arcee lay sprawled amongst the warm pulsing glow of her gently humming berth, unable to succumb to the pressing need for recharge. Beneath her, the berth was doing its best to win her over: soothing vibrations relaxed the cables, joints, and plates which comprised her slender self, and yet, though she felt as boneless and warm as a cat lounging in sunshine, sleep would not come; couldn't, until she'd cleared her head. <em>Cliff used to say I spent too much time thinking...<em>

_Cliffjumper._ _What would be different by now, if he'd survived?_ She would not have been so accepting of Jack, or so close to him. Her heart had belonged to Cliff, and why not? He was an impressive soldier; much more than just that. _He was a patient friend, and he help__ed me through my guilt and shame__ after pulling me out of Koan__. He pushed me back to the front lines when I was too afraid...he was there for me when the nightmares wouldn't stop. He had sense when I got too stupid. __He__ got me to Earth and Optimus. _For an instant, she could almost feel his strong arms cradling her close; could hear the rumble of his engines in the berth's vibrations. His voice was there, never forgotten. Her optics closed and she curled herself around Cliff's ghostly frame, yearning for him more than ever. _We never admitted it, but I know he loved me as much as I loved him._

The scout thrust herself away from the berth and she shouted, her fist striking the opposite wall with a loud _clang_ that reverberated through her extended arm. Her spark pounded within her chest; the energon inside her crackled and surged. _Stop it! Stop dwelling on the past. Jack's right. It's the future that matters._

But what awaited the Autobots? Outnumbered, outgunned, and with no steady supply of fresh energon, it was only a matter of time before the Autobots lost their hold on Mother Earth. The divisive nature of the Decepticons was their greatest advantage in the war for galactic supremacy – that, and the power of Primus embodied by Optimus. A dash of tactical genius and luck thrown into the mix, and their tiny squadron had survived for far longer than any had expected, and she couldn't deny that she did, indeed, have _hope_ that a peaceful future was within reach. Their human allies had proven useful, too; when Arcee felt her lowest, Jack rekindled her determination to _win_.

Agent Fowler had his uses, too.

Peace would mean a chance to rebuild and regrow; a chance to seek out the All-Spark and bring life back to desolate Cybertron. Until the All-Spark could be found, however, it might be expected of her to strengthen her kind with the production of sparklings. It was a responsibility she had never been so conscious of before.

She left her quarters behind to seek out the open air, running down the broad, cavernous hallway on stealthy feet. Her spark began to race; her engines whined to life, then revved with every stride, eager for the empty road ahead. She was just reaching the ideal speed for a smooth transformation when, rounding the final corner, she collided with a broad metal thigh-plate and impossibly hard kneecap. _BANG – s_he bounced backward with a grunt, hitting the floor aft-first and sliding several feet, metal screeching against metal; he stumbled from the surprise impact, too, nearly taking a knee before he caught himself and straightened to his proud, towering height. He stood staring while she reeled to her own feet, one hand against the wall for support, the other holding her ringing head. She touched her mouth, expecting to feel leaking energon; her fingers came away dry. Her faceplate had somehow not been cracked.

"Arcee..." Optimus Prime looked down on her, concern on his unmasked face. His voice was as solemn and serious as ever. "Are you all right?"

She climbed to her unsteady feet, giving her arms a shake while she bounced on her toes, testing. "Yes." She rolled her head and shrugged her shoulders, trying to loosen the cabling therein – it felt bunched and tight. "I didn't expect you..."

He cracked a smile. "Nor I, you." He returned to the console that had held his attention before her clumsy arrival. Lines of data scrolled past: Bulkhead's report from a recent skirmish with Vehicons found mining outside Thailand. "Why aren't you in your berth? You should be recharging."

"I just need some air. I won't be out long."

He shook his head. "No; stay and sit with me." He left the report open but stepped away from the console, walking with slow, purposeful strides to the far side of their cavernous command center, stopping in front of the enormous ring-like gateway of their Ground Bridge. It was there he seated himself and opened an inviting hand toward her, waiting patiently until she took that hand and settled at his side. He was patient, too, in waiting for her to speak first.

"It's nothing important..."

"If you are troubled, Arcee, then so am I. Let us talk as friends. I do not always need to be your Commander, as you learned when we were trapped in the arctic." He did not smile, allowing the warmth of his words to convey his compassion, instead.

It was easy to be honest with him; only embarrassment made the words a struggle, and that faded once she determined how to begin. "It's just something Jack said." She folded a leg to her chestplate and set her chin on the dull point of its knee-guard. Her fingers locked together over her ankle, holding the leg in place. "I don't know why I can't get it out of my head. It's not the right time or the right place to be thinking about these things, but it's like he flipped a switch and now there are processors working that I didn't even know existed." With a little uncertainty, she added, "It's making me think about Cliff, too, and...and you know how that gets to me. I've already messed up once because I couldn't keep my emotions in check." Regret squeezed her throat, making it hard to keep talking. "I don't want to risk it happening again, so I just need to go for a drive."

Optimus did not say anything right away. Assuming she had made a fair point and would soon earn his permission to leave the base, Arcee picked up her head and turned expectant optics his way. It startled her to find herself under the intense scrutiny of his brilliant optics. "You are wounded," he began, his voice soft, "and your wounds require time to heal. Remember that we share in your loss and that you are never alone, and remember that I have never lost faith in you."

A great sorrow crossed his face. "The war has taken too much from us all."

"...you're never alone, either." To see beyond his stoic facade was a rare thing; Arcee took it as an honor that he would trust her enough to reveal his own sadness and regret. Her hand found his, appearing small and delicate in comparison to his much larger servos. When she touched him, he faintly smiled, and her spark skipped a beat...

"Thank you, Arcee." He did not move, yet the moment passed as quickly as it had come, a subtle shift of his expression prompting Arcee to reclaim her hand. "Now, what was it Jack said that has you so worried?"

She laughed and gave in, admitting everything. "He reminded me that I'm the only one around here with a spark chamber, and now he's very concerned about how I'll manage to create enough sparklings to repopulate Cybertron."

Optimus' eyebrows jumped upward. His next words were delivered with grave sincerity. "One 'Bot at a time, Arcee." Was it her imagination, or was that a twinkle of mischief in his eye?

She never had the opportunity to find out. Alarms filled the base with their wailing and they both shot to their feet, hurrying to the active console to find out what prompted the sudden alert. "Decepticon activity," Optimus announced, speaking both to her and the microphone to the comm system. "Multiple points of attack. Scanners indicate heavy forces have gathered in western Russia and the Decepticon mothership is confirmed to be in Californian airspace."

Arcee went to the Ground Bridge controls while he issued his orders. "All Autobots, prepare to roll out!"


End file.
